Two Sherlocks
by HedgieX
Summary: Rachel and Janet are sent to give Sherlock and John a warning after a violin thrown from the window of 221B Baker Street causes an incident in the street below. Just a bit of fluff. Possibly more to come if anyone enjoys this.


**Just to explain slightly, because I'm aware my thought processes are a little haphazard: the **_**Scott&Bailey**_** characters have heard of the detective Sherlock Holmes, but the modern television series **_**Sherlock**_** doesn't exist to them, so Rachel thinks Sherlock's mother was just a very big fan of Sherlock Holmes. Obviously Rupert Graves plays both Nick in **_**Scott&Bailey**_** and Lestrade in **_**Sherlock**_**, which confuses things somewhat;')**

**Two Sherlocks**

"Ready to face the nutters?" Rachel asked as she and Janet stood side by side in front of the black door marked _221B_.

"Don't be judgmental, Rach, we all have nutter tendencies."

A woman finally opened the door once Rachel had worked out how to use the knocker (she moaned for a while about it being the twenty-first century first, "And yet still people haven't got their brains in gear enough to get a doorbell") and Rachel barged past her and straight upstairs.

"Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?"

_Jesus,_ Janet thought, did she think she was in a movie, throwing open the door like that?

There were two men in the room; both been sitting on the window ledge, but now one of them jumped down and offered his hand to Rachel. "That's Sherlock. I'm John."

Janet stepped forwards and shook John's hand, because Rachel had already wandered off to examine a violin resting against the foot of the fireplace.

"We're from the Manchester Metropolitan Police," Janet told John, fumbling around in her pocket for her warrant card and flashing it, "We'd like to have a word with Mr Holmes, if that's alright. You'll have to excuse my colleague, she's having a bit of family trouble at the moment."

Sherlock, who'd paid no attention to his visitors up until this point, slipped down – he surprised Janet with how long his legs were when they were straightened out, and how quickly he swooped from the window ledge and crossed the room – and snatched her warrant card, holding it up to the light.

"Janet Scott, mm," he said, "Probably recently separated from a husband; is not wearing a ring, but has a band of white on her ring finger. A detective constable, probably a little discontented with where she is rank-wise, given that she's been doing the job for a long time. And children. Girls?"

"Yes, two."

"Only girls would choose those earrings for their mother's birthday."

"You'll have to excuse my colleague as well," John said quietly.

"Tea and coffee," the lady who'd let them in called from the doorway to the room, "And scones with cream and jam."

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson."

John gestured to the table at the edge of the room, and Janet sat down opposite him (after she'd removed something which looked suspiciously like a dead bird from the chair) and allowed him to pour her some tea. Rachel laid the violin back down and sat down next to Janet, wrinkling her nose at the state of the room.

All three of them watched Sherlock; he paced the length of the room three times, then sat down next to John and held a cup to his lips without filling it with coffee. He made an 'mm' sound, as though he was content with his imaginary drink; Janet didn't want to ruin his enjoyment by pointing out that he wasn't actually drinking anything. Rach was right, he was even more of a nutter than most people they had to deal with.

"So, did your mum like the stories?"

"What stories?" Sherlock asked Rachel solemnly, taking a scone and running his finger around the edge of it, then licking the jam from his skin.

"The Sherlock Holmes stuff. The detective. It's like– well, you've got the best friend with the wonky leg and the housekeeper and everything."

"Wonky leg?" John repeated, "That's a little rude."

"I am a detective, now you come to mention it," Sherlock said airily, "What exactly was it that brought you here, aside from the knowledge that you would be scintillated by the company you were presented with?"

Rachel was too busy snorting into her coffee to respond, so Janet looked between John and Sherlock a little apprehensively before saying, "Actually, we came about reports of someone throwing a violin out of a window. Your window. Of course, it may not be true, but we have to follow up our leads in case–"

"Oh, that."

"Sherlock, I've told you not to do things like that," Mrs Hudson called from the landing. Neither John or Sherlock seemed to find it odd that she was listening to their conversation.

"Well, you see, it actually fell on a woman, and she needed to go to hospital. She had twelve stitches, just above her right eyebrow. So you see, it's really rather dangerous; we need to talk to you about–"

"Now, that's interesting, because it fell a distance of ten metres, which means–" Sherlock trailed off to an inaudible volume, muttering something about equations and the potential for injury. He looked up, a grin plastered across his face which seemed to stretch the corners of his mouth so wide the skin turned translucent. "Do you by any chance know whether the violin was damaged?"

"I'm not sure, Mr Holmes."

"That's not really important, Sherlock," John said.

"Oh, it is, John, because you see–"

"No, they need to talk to you about the person who was injured." He leant across and whispered something to Sherlock; Janet caught snippets of sentences, something about being arrested and something else about seeming normal.

"It's even the same number on the door, though," Rachel said with her mouth half-filled with scone, "It's like his whole life is a tribute to this character, and he doesn't even seem to see why it's weird."

"Lots of things are weird about Sherlock," John said to Rachel. He seemed to be watching her rather a lot; it exasperated Janet just how many men became smitten with Rachel whilst they were supposed to be being interviewed. They evidently didn't understand what a bugger she was to be around.

Rachel's phone rang. "Hello, Boss," she said, "Yes, we're here at the moment."

"Put it on loudspeaker," Sherlock told her, "I want to hear better."

She rolled her eyes but pressed a button, and Gill's voice filled the room, reverberating off the jars filled with eyeballs and the stacks of leather-bound books, "Fingerprint him; we can test the violin."

"They've got the violin," Sherlock said eagerly, "Ask her if it's broken."

"Is that him? Yes, Mr Holmes, it's broken. The peggy thingies have come out, and the strings are all tangled. Have my officers explained to you that this is a serious offence? You must have respect for your surroundings; your carelessness could have caused lasting damage to the lady underneath."

"Should be fixable," Sherlock muttered.

Rachel sighed dramatically, as though highlighting how wearying these lunatics made her, "Don't worry, Boss, we'll deal with it."

"Thanks, Sherlock. Ta-ta."

"Why did she just call you Sherlock? _I'm_ Sherlock."

"Sorry," Mrs Hudson said from the doorway before Rachel could reply, her cheeks flushed like she'd just had a fierce exchange with a beaver, "I tried to–"

A man barged past her and stood facing the table the four of them were sitting around, hands on hips.

"Ah, Lestrade, how wonderful to see you," Sherlock said.

Janet couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. She was about to offer him a scone, just to settle the tension in the room, when Rachel spun around.

"_Nick_?" she gasped.

XxXxX

**Reviews would be very much appreciated!x**


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